“Of course he wouldn’t!” declared Fleetwood rashly. “Now come, Bridlington!”
“But why should I?” demanded Frederick. “Besides, what could I do with the brat? It is the greatest piece of nonsense I ever had to listen to!”
“Lord Fleetwood, will you take Jemmy?” asked Arabella, turning to him beseechingly.
His lordship was thrown into disorder. “Well, I don’t think— You see, ma’am— Fact of the matter is—Dash it, Lady Bridlington’s right! The Parish! That’s the thing!”
“Unworthy, Charles!” said Mr. Beaumaris.
The much goaded Lord Bridlington rounded on him. “Then, if that is what you think, Beaumaris, perhaps you will take the wretched brat!”
Then it was that Mr. Beaumaris, looking across the room, at Arabella, all flushed cheeks and heaving bosom, astonished the company, and himself as well. “Yes,” he said. “I will.”
IX
These simple words struck the ears of his audience with stunning effect. Lord Fleetwood’s jaw dropped; Lady Bridlington’s and her son’s rather protuberant eyes started at Mr. Beaumaris; and Arabella stared at him in amazement. It was she who broke the silence. You?” she said, the incredulity in her tone leaving him in no doubt of her opinion of his character.
A rather rueful smile twisted his lips. “Why not?” he said.